Songs for Bubbline
by Asukai Haruka
Summary: This is a collection of one-shots based on whatever song it is I get when I put my playlist on shuffle. Not necessarily songfics, but most of them (if not all) will be Bubbline. Given the content of my playlist, there probably will be a sizable amount of angst. You have been warned. Girl x Girl
1. Monochrome Blue Sky

**A/N: Hello, everyone, and welcome to my attempt at this playlist-shuffle-fic thing. To fit into the songs, sometimes they might be a little OOC, I hope you won't mind.**

**However, since most of my playlist is not English (Japanese or Mandarin Chinese), **_**if**_** I do use the lyrics in the story, I will be using **_**romaji**_** / **_**pinyin**_** and translating whatever parts I feel are "important". If you want the full translation, you can PM me / Google it / YouTube for it.**

**Also, most of my playlist is pretty angsty (not a word, I know), so… uhm… yeah. Just a heads up in case you didn't see the one in the summary.**

**I hope you enjoy my first foray into Adventure Time fiction!**

_**Song Title: Monochrome Blue Sky  
>Artist: Hatsune Miku<br>Original Language: Japanese**_

_**Alternate Universe – High School**_

**Bonnibel's POV**

The classroom has long emptied, the dismissal bell having gone off a full thirty minutes ago, and only I am left behind. Everyone else has things to do after school, have lives to lead and friends to meet, all but me. I have no meaning to my existence, I don't know what I want to be, I don't know what I want to do, I just lower my head and study robotically, unsure of who I even am.

Every single day, I do the exact same thing. Get out of bed at the same time, eat the same breakfast, put on the same uniform, attend the same school, keep silent as usual unless asked to speak, sit in class alone for a few hours as always, walk the same path, enter the same house, shower at the same time, lie in the same bed, sleep at the same time, rinse and repeat. It has long become tiresome, I have no reason to continue this tedium, but I do anyway.

Staring down at my Mathematics workbook, I attempt to focus on the exercises, but my heart is far too cloudy to obey. Gazing out of the window with a sigh, I take in the everyday landscape, the concrete jungle of the town, the empty basketball court right at the foot of the building… nothing will ever change, this tedium will only drag on and on.

The road stretches out before me, bleak and gray, flanked on both sides by utter desolation, dead grass and gnarled trees. The color that I am desperately looking for, the life that I am seeking, the friendship and feelings that I desire, there is no evidence that I will ever be able to find them. The road ahead looks the same as the road behind, endlessly unchanging scenery, endlessly monochrome skies, endlessly heavy repetitions.

My gaze flickers to the artwork on the walls, the "paint your personality" project we had been given earlier today. There are so many colors, brilliant yellows, bright oranges, deep blues, rich purples, sensual reds, and then there is mine, pinned right at the bottom so as to not catch any attention.

A blank piece of paper.

It is empty, colorless, just like I am, flat and lacking personality. A pure white piece of paper, without a single mark on it, an empty teenage girl, without a single dream of her own; we are not very different.

The art teacher initially disapproved, unable to believe that anyone is truly empty and lifeless and monochrome the way I am, but in the end, she let it slide. It most probably was because the twins, Finn and Jake, were trying to eat the yellow paint, Mi-Yun, Jake's Korean girlfriend, was trying to paint the tables rainbow, and some of the other boys had started a paint war in the back. She had much more important things to pay attention to than a strange girl's desire to showcase herself as blank.

Trying to return my attention to my homework, I continue on the boring road of my unchanging life. At the exact same time, I leave the school, taking the exact same route back to my house, arriving at the exact same moment as I did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that…

And as always, no one is home, no one will ever be home. My parents have long gone to the other side, and my uncle, whose house I am living in, rented himself a new apartment closer to work because he could not stand the awkward silence being around me entailed. As always, I eat the exact same thing, he brings over the same foods every Saturday at three in the afternoon, never a moment before or after. Nothing ever changes.

My shower lasts the exact ten minutes it has been for the last four years, ever since my parents' deaths, and at the exact same time I stand at the balcony, leaning against the railing, letting my long black hair dry in the wind. Every Thursday, I will dye the roots of my hair black, before the natural pink gets too obvious. No one in high school knows that my hair is actually pink, and I would like it to stay that way.

They all said that it would get better, that there will be great change in my life and I will want to live again, back when I was in deep mourning. Four years later, it still has not happened. My parents took with them my hopes and dreams for the future. I shut myself in from the day they left me, and before I knew it, I could not break out. Trapped within myself, Bonnibel Burroughs perished in the suffocating darkness.

At the same time as usual, I leave the balcony, going about the rest of my mundane routine. Dinner is the same old, just like breakfast and lunch, and for entertainment I stare at the paintwork and think about death. Nothing ever changes.

My sleep is dreamless, as always, and the same alarm pulls me from the same darkness at the same time for another tedious day of life. Walking down the same path to school, I take the exact same amount of steps as I do on any other day, the length of my strides never changing. My uniform, as always, is impeccable, the same navy blue jumper over a white collared shirt with a red tie, a short, pleated black skirt, black knee-high socks and perfectly shined black shoes.

Arriving in class, the first as always, I take my seat and stare quietly at my desk, remaining motionless as my classmates file in, noise beginning to pick up as per normal. The twins are goofing around, Mi-Yun is laughing, the pack of rowdy boys at the back is messing around, nothing has changed, nor will it ever.

The teacher walks in, frowns, and screams at everyone to settle down. Again, that is nothing out of the ordinary, and the class takes its own sweet time to obey. The words coming from her mouth do not register in my head; it always is just roll call and announcements anyway. I react to the sound of my name, but other than that, I remain in my usual cloudy state, staring at the monochrome world around me.

Homework is collected, students reprimanded for not completing it, and then lessons begin. Today is just like any other Tuesday, the same classes, the same teachers, the same faces, it really is tiring. How many more times will I repeat these boring, lifeless cycles? Will I ever be able to find that which I am looking for?

A reason to live, I need that, I desperately need that. When your dreams have vanished, what is the point of staying in this world? There's no meaning to my existence, my life is just a huge waste of time.

Later, at lunch, I arrive alone at the school roof as always. The wind rakes through my hair as I stare down at the same scenery as I did yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. My heart sinks even further, the weight of life pulling it down, down, down, until I can feel it throbbing in my ankle. The mere thought of living another day is painful, I do not want to have to do everything again.

This time, I shift to the edge of the roof, the wind picking up and blowing both my hair and skirt sideways. Looking up at the same old blue sky that shines over my monochrome existence, I wish I could become colorful, I wish I could find a reason to live, I wish I could stop feeling so damn tired all the time…

Living is heavy. If I jump, will I feel lighter?

Taking a deep breath, I resolve to break free from my tedium in my own way. My toes are already over the edge, and soon, my entire body will follow…

"Whoa, hey, don't jump!" an unfamiliar voice calls out, a cool and gentle hand wrapping around my wrist, pulling me backward.

I turn, shocked at the sudden and unexpected interruption, to see an unfamiliar girl in the boy's uniform. Pale skin, long, black hair to her ankles, her tie loose and her jumper missing, replaced with a red checkered jacket; she is not someone I have ever seen before. There is no way I can ever forget someone who stands out so obviously, the only red in a sea of blue.

Anger, hot and unforgiving, bursts out from deep within me, and I pull away from her violently, shouting, "Why don't you mind your own business?"

Her eyes are a vivid scarlet, like blood, yet they are filled with a very human warmth, her tone civil, "I'm not going to let you jump. Whatever it is can be worked out, okay? And if it's some_one_, I can beat him up for you."

Her smile is crooked, deliciously so, the kind that would make girls melt into squealing puddles. Keeping her at arm's length, I ask almost suspiciously, "Who are you? I've never seen you around before."

I am cautious, wary; unsure what reason a stranger may have to help another. Maybe she is a mere figment of my imagination, the remnants of Bonnibel Burroughs who doesn't yet want to die.

She looks up at the sky, the wind tossing her hair about beautifully, "I'm Marceline Abadeer, just transferred in today."

That explains it… "Bonnibel Burroughs."

"Well, Bonnie," she looks me in the eye now, sincerity radiating from her, "From now on, I'll be your friend, so don't do anything stupid, alright?"

_Bonnie_. No one has called me that in four years, and here she is, just using it right off the bat. Strangely, it does not irk me the way it should, I… I kind of like the way that nickname rolls off her tongue…

"Why would you help me?" I turn away, unable to meet that scarlet gaze, instead staring down at the same old scenery that spreads out before me. Why would anyone have any reason to take even a single glance at a flat, lifeless girl such as myself? Is she lying to me, will she only hurt me? Or is she my brain's last-ditch attempt at survival?

"Because you remind me of myself," she replies, a sorrowful look clouding her eyes, "Just that I used a knife…"

The wind tugs her hair back, this time pulling the collar of her jacket with it, and I see it. A long, jagged scar on the side of her neck, most likely aimed at cutting open the jugular, running from her hairline and stopping millimeters above the shoulder. So she, too, found living heavy…

Shaking her head, she smiles that crooked smile again, "Anyway, it's not about me, it's about you. Whatever's the matter… you can count on me, I promise."

"Marceline…" a single tear rolls down my cheek as my knees buckle, and she easily catches me before I fall.

"Marcy's fine," she pats the back of my head as I bury myself into her jacket, taking in the sweet scent of her skin, like the night and fresh rain. Though the scenery out there remains the same, my life has changed…

Is this what I was looking for? Is she going to splash my monochrome world with color, give my life meaning? Only time will tell…

**One Year Later**

We are on the school roof together again, it has become a common hiding place of ours, and sometimes, we skip classes just to sit here together. Though it is a ritual, albeit one without a fixed schedule, I am perfectly fine if it never changes, I would love to just stay here with Marcy forever.

The last year had been a tough one, but I managed to change myself for the better with her help, getting over my antisocial nature, trying to create bonds with people other than Marcy and actually having a life. It wasn't easy, the night before I had to talk to Mi-Yun I spent sobbing for hours, trembling in terror, wishing I could go back on my word and hide forever. I had chosen her to be the first of my "new friends" because she had seemed the nicest of all the girls in class (save my Marcy), and didn't radiate a scary aura of superiority the way some girls (LSP, the school gossip) did.

Marcy was my rock, whenever I was afraid, hurt, tired, she would open her arms and welcome me into a warm, safe haven where I could hide and rest for a little while. She waited patiently by my side as I took baby steps out of my shell, never once growing impatient with me, always understanding, though she wasn't, and still isn't, very good at the sappy emotional stuff.

Now, I have even allowed my hair to remain in its natural color, which looked weird when it was growing so I ended up dyeing the whole thing as close a shade of pink as I could manage (which wasn't as close as I would have liked). Now, most of it is natural, save the last couple of inches at my waist.

Those couple of inches are all that remain of the old Bonnibel Burroughs, the hollow girl with a personality like a blank piece of paper, wading through a monochrome life with weights dragging at her body. Everything else has changed, colored, brightened.

Looking up at the sky, I lean against Marcy's shoulder, savoring the warmth of her body. "I can't believe that at this time last year, I was going to jump off this very roof."

"You've come a really long way, Bonnie," she smiles that beautiful, crooked smile as always, the one that turns my insides to mush. "I'm really proud of you."

"I couldn't have done it without you," I reply, burning the image of a vividly blushing Marceline into my memories, "One year ago today; you barged right into my life and gave it meaning, gave it color, and I can never thank you enough for that. You saved my life, Marcy."

"Ah, well…" she looks away, still blushing. Marcy isn't very good with words; she never has been, unless she's singing them. She's cute that way, and I wouldn't have her change for the world. "I didn't really…"

How strange, that a girl who used to desire change would now turn her back on it. I guess it's because I have something to lose now, and I fear that change might make me lose it, lose her, even though it was what brought her to me.

Changing the subject, she says, "Your hair is coming along great."

I hit her lightly to let her know that I am aware of what she is trying, but oblige her anyway. "Yeah, I'm glad. Why do they only have hot pink hair dye?"

"Because only weirdos dye their hair pink, and that's the shade they're going for," Marcy responds, pouting when I punch her in the shoulder. When I dyed most of my hair hot pink, even Marcy was stunned, and she knew I was going to do it. The rest of the class, though…

"No one could believe I was the same girl," I laugh at the memory, "Finn and Jake confronted you and swore you replaced me with a clone or something."

She laughs as well, that musical, lilting laugh that I love so much. "Well, I sure taught them a lesson they wouldn't forget in a hurry."

"Marcy, you nearly killed them."

"Well, they started it," she shrugs, and I have nothing to say against her there. Finn and Jake did tackle her before she left class that day, and if there's one thing my Marcy doesn't like, it's being touched by other people. She's really picky about who can touch her, and if you're not on her list, you'd better not try to if you want to keep your body parts.

I shake my head in a mock-rebuking manner, which makes her laugh. "Marcy, Marcy, Marcy, what am I gonna do with you?"

"Pat me," she replies lazily, shifting so that her head is now against my shoulder. Shaking my head in a mock-rebuking manner, I oblige, running my fingers through her raven locks, watching as she closes her eyes and purrs in pleasure.

That day, she had freaked out and thrashed the twins across the room, as expected, nearly breaking Finn's leg in the process. Fortunately, since there was a lot of proof that they had started the fight first and Marcy was (and still is) undergoing serious therapy for her touch-related issues, the punishments weren't too severe on Marcy's end. The twins, on the other hand, received a hefty detention sentence after a one week suspension, all applied after their hospitalization had ended, of course.

Everyone in school was terrified of her from that day forth, they called her Marceline the Vampire Queen, and Finn and gang tried to dissuade me from spending time with her. They pulled me aside whenever they could and roped Mi-Yun in on it too, calling Marcy crazy and dangerous and _feral_, which pissed me off so much I nearly beat them up myself.

Those idiots, they know nothing about Marcy at all, yet they feel the right to judge her as if they do. Marcy is a monster on the outside, but beneath that protective layer is an awkward, sweet little kitten who isn't sure about her place in the world.

And even if she is a dangerous psychopath, there is no way I will ever leave my infuriatingly adorable Marcy, my rock, my home, my closest friend, my savior, the owner of my heart…

Looking out over the scenery that has remained unchanged over the last year; I silently admire the beauty in it, the color in it, that I never managed to see before. If it weren't for Marcy, I would never have opened my eyes to the color that exists in my world, and I would have ended up embracing the asphalt in my misery.

"Marcy?"

"Yeah?" she turns to look at me, those scarlet eyes the same color as the magnificent sun setting behind us – no – more beautiful than the magnificent sun setting behind us boring into mine.

Wordlessly, I lean up to press my lips against hers, a silent thanks for all that she has done for me, for all that she will continue doing for me, a silent proclamation of my hidden feelings. She flushes the same color as her eyes before deepening the kiss, arms wrapping around my waist as I wrap mine around her neck, pulling her closer.

_She kissed me back. Oh glob, Marceline kissed me back..._

"Be mine, Marcy?"

"I'm already yours."

The endless road which I am walking no longer seems so lonely, so boring, so lifeless. The asphalt may still be a dark gray but the road is flanked with color, with fountains, local parks, cozy cafés, ice-cream parlors and school roofs in the sunset. Best of all, I am no longer walking it alone.

And it all started with a dark haired girl with blood red eyes standing under a monochrome blue sky.

**A/N: It didn't quite come out the way I want it to, but meh. I've rewritten it a lot and have pretty much given up as I don't know what I want, just that it's not quite this. Please leave a review if you have any comments at all!**

**If you want me to listen to a certain song, I guess I wouldn't mind, just pop it in a PM and I'll go check it out. If I have the feels for it, I'll definitely write something, but if I don't… haha my muse is a picky one.**

**Haruka**


	2. Emotions

**A/N: Once again, I want to reiterate that I will not accept every single request I receive, only those that I "feel" for. Please do not be offended if I reject your request, it's your song, not you personally.**

**This request was by Warrior of the Healing Flame.**

**P.S I ****do not**** own AT or any of the characters/songs I am using. If I did, Bubbline would be obvious canon and AT would probably be banned in a number of countries for homosexual content.**

_**Song Title: Emotions  
>Artist: Man with a Mission<br>Original Language: English/Japanese**_

_**Alternate Universe – apocalyptic**_

"Boys, get down!"

With a yelp, the blond twins hit the deck as ordered, a grenade whizzing over their heads and exploding with a wash of light and heat. An anguished shriek rose from the smoking heaps of the Contaminated, their large, furry bodies producing a unique stench as they burned.

"Ugh," the younger twin, Finn, pulled the collar of his hoodie up to his nose, wincing at the scent, "I'll never get used to that smell."

"No time for talking," the elder twin, Jake, shoved his brother aside just as another Contaminated, bigger than the others, bore down heavily on the spot they were last at.

Immediately, the assuring bang of a sniper rifle echoed through the dirty air, sending the Contaminated sprawling, taken out by a single bullet to the head. Scrambling back to the group, the boys quickly thanked the sniper for her assisting shot. Said sniper, a lean, raven haired girl, rose wordlessly and shifted to higher ground, scanning the rubble for any more signs of the Contaminated.

Seeing the crestfallen look on the twins' faces at her rejection, the girl's adoptive father, Simon Petrikov, rested a gentle hand on their shoulders, "It's nothing against you guys personally, Marceline treats everyone that way."

The boys were new, they had just joined a few months ago, which was why they didn't know Marceline the way the rest of the lab did. She wasn't a friendly person, period, she never treated anyone differently. Well... there was Bonnie, but... everyone knew better than to bring her up in front of Marceline.

"But… why?" Finn pulled a face, "Isn't it lonely? And isn't it tiring to frown all the time?"

_Bang!_ A shriek of agony followed, along with the sharp ping of the bullet casing striking the ground.

The noise reminded them of what they were supposed to be doing, Simon's face losing its previous gentle edge as he ordered, "Alright, kids, we've got to move fast. They know we're here, and we're definitely not welcome."

"Yes sir!"

The small group fanned out, bags in hand, loading as much food as they could find into them. In the past, that would have been stealing, but in these times, everything was fair game. The law was gone, the government was gone, the world itself had gone to the dogs. Ever since that strange disease swept in and spread like wildfire, turning human beings into huge, furry creatures that looked like a cross between Wookiees and dragons that murdered and ate human beings in large numbers, society itself began to crumble. No one knew where the disease came from, how it infected people or when it began, all they knew was that there was no cure and it was starting to look like the end of the world.

Within the year, cities were trampled to the ground, overrun by these beings, called the Contaminated, and the pockets of surviving humans fought daily for their lives. Those who were luckier knew scientists or came upon a group that knew them, as the scientists mostly had secure, underground bunkers in which they were hiding and studying the disease.

That had been a full five years ago.

_Bang! Bang!_

"Simon, we've got to move." Despite the obvious danger they were in, the sniper's voice remained monotonous, emotionless, symbolic of the dead heart that beat uselessly inside her hollow chest.

"You heard the lady!" with a shrill whistle to capture the group's attention, Simon quickly rounded them up and headed for the sewer system they had used to get there, counting every single member as they flocked past him into the manhole.

The horde of Contaminated spotted them just as Jake was descending, charging at them with a shriek. Cursing under his breath, Simon hurled his load into the hole, aware that there was not enough time for them to evacuate completely.

"Finn, Jake, Rachel, get back to base and stay there," he snapped, refusing to give them time to protest, "If we're not back in half an hour, count us dead and lock the doors. I will not take any unnecessary risks."

With that, he snapped the manhole shut, securing the bolt, ignoring the screams of the children below. They were too young to understand, too young to live in such a hostile world, and definitely too young to die out here. Barely even thirteen…

Meanwhile, Marceline had slung the sniper rifle across her back, bringing out a semi-automatic; there was no point in a sniper when those things were so damn close. She had no time to get to high ground, they had to leg it over Contaminated territory to get back to the facility.

Throwing out a grenade paired with a flash, the duo used the ensuing confusion to dart down the empty street, swiftly climbing up the rusted fire escape of a nearby building and heading to the roof.

Below, the Contaminated had recovered and were on their tail, though their sub-intelligence and heavy frames made it impossible for them to climb the ladder. Roaring in displeasure, a number of them lingered below, waiting for them to come back down, while another group broke off and stumbled into the building.

Leaping and swinging over pipes and vents, jumping to the roof across, the duo moved swiftly and silently, the adrenalin rushing through Simon's veins making him feel both high and terrified at the same time.

Marceline, on the other hand, had a blank expression on her face, her breathing calm; the raven haired teenager had lost the ability to experience emotions, not even fear, and sometimes, she managed to not even feel pain. Emotions were something she had abandoned one and a half years ago, the day her world ended.

As the entrance to the underground facility neared, the two began leaping onto lower and lower buildings, before finally hitting the ground running. Behind them, a huge mob of Contaminated followed, large feet thudding heavily against the dusty asphalt. They were hungry, that was for sure, as there had been a distinct lack of humans for their consumption in the past few years.

As they rounded a corner, pelting full-speed toward the gates that demarcated the facility boundary, the sight of something made Marceline stop in her tracks, eyes widening.

It was a book. Not just any book, Marceline could recognize that nauseating yet heartbreaking shade of pink anywhere. It belonged to _her_; it was the book she had been recklessly seeking for the past one and a half years. It was Bonnie's "travel journal", the diary she took along with her wherever she went.

Without stopping to wonder why the damn pink thing had suddenly chosen to show itself, Marceline lunged straight for it, ignoring Simon's shouts of warning. Nothing was more important than Bonnibel's diary; it was the only thing, besides her clothes and a broken heart, that she had left behind the day she died.

"Marcy, what the hell are you doing?!" Simon screamed as he vaulted over the fence, the Contaminated rapidly nearing with groans and growls. Any longer, and Marceline would have to be left for dead, it would be far too dangerous to keep the doors open with so many of those accursed creatures mobbing around.

"B-Bonnie!" she croaked, _emotion_ finally breaking through her raspy, usually monotonous voice, causing Simon's eyes to widen. Marceline's emotions had died one and a half years ago, the very day her girlfriend got eaten.

"Bonnibel is _dead_, honey," he began, but then noticed the ridiculously pink book against the faded gray of the asphalt and understood. Lying there was the last thing Marceline had left of her girlfriend, the thing she had been desperately looking for, and though Simon thought her a fool for risking her life for it, he knew he would do the same if it were Betty's.

Love never lasted long in this forsaken world, death lingered every single day and the risk of sudden contamination was one that stayed, just out of sight, at the edges of everyone's minds. There was little hope to be had, and if that bright pink book would bring the light back into Marceline's blood red eyes, then Simon had no complaints.

Simon perched at the top of the crumbling wall, two grenades and a flash in his hand, fully aware that he had to make them count. There was no time to scramble back to the armory for more weapons, and he would not risk calling any of the children out for help. They were waiting anxiously by the door underground, he was sure, and knew nothing of their current situation. Simon wanted to keep it that way, hurling one of the grenades to keep those beasts' eyes on him.

Meanwhile, another group of Contaminated had noticed Marceline's presence and were flocking toward her. The book was in the middle of the road, out in the open, and if she left the cover of the dilapidated building she was in, they could and would easily collapse on her. However, she was not going to give up on it, she would take whatever risks necessary to get her hands on that thing.

For the first time in a long time, adrenalin pounded through her veins, her heart thudding wildly against her ribcage as she kept her eyes on the space between her and the book, between her and the Contaminated, between her and safety. After carefully scanning her surroundings, Marceline decided to take the risk, exploding powerfully out of her shelter.

Instantly, the Contaminated rushed at her with feral screams. Hoping desperately that the exposed gas pipe still had enough spark in it, Marceline hurled a grenade at it before dropping into a forward roll, grabbing the book and rising in the middle of the open street.

For a painful, frightening second, nothing happened, the Contaminated closing the distance between them at a dangerous pace. The grenade was not powerful enough to take them all out if the pipes were empty...

Just then, the pipes blew up, sending plumes of fire high into the sky, searing into the ranks of the Contaminated. Their shrieks died abruptly as the powerful explosion burst through their furry ranks, easily destroying them.

Relieved, the raven haired girl bolted back to the building, legged out the back door and raced down the street, the remnants of the old horde and a number of new ones immediately giving chase.

Squeezing out every ounce of energy she could manage, Marceline raced for the gate, the distance between her and safety and her and danger rapidly decreasing. Simon hurled his last grenade then, but it was not enough to keep them at bay. Just as the horde was about to bear down on her, a loud shout reached her ears.

"Abadeer, hit the deck!"

She obeyed immediately, throwing herself forward and downward a split second before a wave of heat barreled past her, singeing the hair off her arms. The Contaminated shrieked once, and then there was a deathly silence.

"Get your ass back in here before any more of them come, Abadeer!" the same voice ordered, and she quickly scrambled to her feet, vaulting over the fence and joining Simon in a race toward the hidden entrance.

Standing not far from it, a huge rocket launcher on his shoulder, was the scientist in charge of their base, none other than Bonnibel's father. They had been close once, when Bonnibel was alive, but her death had caused them both a lot of grief. Marceline ordered everyone to call her by her last name, the only exception being Simon, while the scientist refused to leave the base at all.

"That… was my daughter's, wasn't it?" he, too, recognized that too-bright shade of pink that his little girl had always loved.

Wordlessly, Marceline nodded, looking down at the slightly tattered and bloodied book. It pained her to think that the blood was most likely Bonnie's.

A small smile touched the scientist's lips, not quite reaching his eyes, the first in one and a half years. "Take good care of it, Abadeer."

"Naturally," she responded curtly, heading straight for her room. Just before she disappeared out of sight, she looked back and grinned, a shadow of the one that used to dance permanently on her lips, "Thanks for the save, old man."

"Think nothing of it, you ruffian," he smiled back, warmer this time, an edge of affection in his tone. It had not been easy for him to accept that his little girl spent so much time with the rotten apple, but when he saw Marceline's concern and devotion to his daughter when the epidemic broke out; all his fears and doubts disappeared.

Marceline loved his daughter, she still did, and that made her alright in his book.

**[Marceline's Room]**

_30 July 3028_

_The epidemic has only gotten worse, and Dad spends all his time in the lab now, trying to find a cure. The world is panicking, everyone is afraid; society itself is beginning to crumble. It's terrifying, many nights I am consumed by horrible dreams of the days to come, of a burning world alike those shown in apocalyptic movies or zombie shooting games, just… real. I see blood and death and hopelessness, it fills me with dread._

_But every time I wake up in cold sweat, sometimes screaming my lungs out, Marceline is always there for me, she'll listen to my panicked ranting and cuddle up with me, she'll tell me that everything's going to be okay even though I see that she doesn't believe it. No matter how bad it gets, she tells me that she'll always be with me, that she will never ever leave._

_I'm scared, but as long as Marceline's with me, I think that everything will be okay. Somehow, we will be the ones to change this world, to save it from this cruel reality._

_25 December 3028_

_The last of the countries have fallen, the world is now in ruins. The government has broken up, gone into hiding, and the people are dying left, right and center. The streets are filled with the Contaminated now; it isn't safe to leave the lab. Dad is trying his best to gather as many people as he can into the lab with us, but there aren't many people left, and too many of them have gone insane._

_It looks really bad now, but Dad and I think we are seeing some progress in our studying of the disease. We've isolated several substances that we think may be the cause of it, and if we can confirm it, we might be able to make a cure, or at least a vaccination against it. That way, there won't be any new Contaminated popping up, so we can just wipe them all out._

_Marceline has been a big help, she's always there for me when I'm down and now, we spend every night together in the same bed. It helps with the nightmares, but it's more than that. I wonder if I will ever be able to tell her…_

_I can't imagine living in a world without Marceline, I can't imagine waking up to a bed without her in it, I love her. But this probably isn't the best time for love, with the world on its deathbed as it is._

_When all this is over, I'll tell Marceline how I feel._

_13 April 3029_

_I just can't understand this strange disease! Every single time Dad and I think we have it down, the next corpse, the next patient, shows something completely different! I fear that it is mutating, adapting, with every wave, changing itself so that it will never be able to be stopped. If that is so, we have a very advanced virus on our hands, one beyond anything we have ever seen before._

_Waves differ only in days, maybe even hours; we have never seen a disease change so quickly. They usually take seasons, coming back improved in a few months, but this disease gives us no such respite. I fear that we are lost…_

_Marcy keeps saying otherwise, she keeps telling me that we'll be able to do something about this, even though I can see that she too is beginning to lose faith. She keeps encouraging me, even if it means that we can't spend much time together anymore because I'm always studying and experimenting. I wonder if she feels lonely…_

_She's really prickly; she's like a fortified porcupine. It's been a couple months but she still hasn't talked to anyone else living in the facility, save me, my dad and her dad Simon. I want to make it up to her, I hate leaving her alone, but this disease has to be my first priority._

_We'll fix this, somehow, and then I'll be able to make it up to Marcy when the world isn't falling to pieces._

_27 November 3029_

_Peppermint has contracted the disease, and he willingly offered himself to be a test subject for our research. The kids are heartbroken; he's called "Peppermint" because he somehow always has some to give out to them, even in the thick of the panic. Stores have emptied, factories closed down, the world has come to a standstill._

_Right now, Dad is taking tissue samples from the parts of him that have started to transform. We'll compare them with the samples we have from the corpses of the last few waves, see if we can find a pattern in the disease's mutation. Hopefully, we will be able to make a breakthrough soon._

_Marcy doesn't like to show it, but the despair is starting to get to her. I mean, she typically looks like an emo rocker chick, but really… I can see it, the darkness in her beautiful eyes. These burdens are too heavy for a fourteen year old's shoulders. And she's got to worry about me too, with all the nightmares I've been having…_

_I really hope that we will be able to change this soon; I don't think either of us can hang on much longer._

_14 February 3030_

_She said yes. Marcy said yes. Even now, lying naked by her side, my body still tingling, I can't quite believe it. Why would such a perfect, amazing girl say yes to a pink-obsessed nerd like me? Back when the world was normal, Marcy had been the envy of many girls and the dream "bad girl" of half the school._

_Ah, she's nuzzling into me again. My Marcy's really cute like that, if you pat her, she presses against you like a cat._

_My Marcy… I'll never get tired of that. Even though the world feels like it is on its last legs, corrupted lungs spewing dank air, I feel like there's a huge well of hope that's just sprung in my chest because of this. Marcy is mine… and as long as she's mine, I can do absolutely anything._

_30 October 3030_

_It's been three years since the epidemic broke out, and we still haven't managed to find a cure, a pattern, a confirmed culprit… nothing. It is so frustrating and demoralizing; we've worked so hard, but have nothing to show for our efforts._

_Fortunately, we have not had any new cases within our walls, Peppermint was the last one, and he died at the start of this year. Maybe the disease is slowing down, or maybe our bodies are building up a natural immunity to it. Dad is going to take blood samples from everyone in the facility tomorrow to see if the latter is true. It's our last hope right now._

_We've made contact with another group of survivors on the west end, the doctor there was Dad's old friend, and we spent most of today comparing our findings and results, hoping to get something out of it. We've got nothing so far, both sides have been stumped by the same baffling skill of the disease to seemingly transform itself completely with every wave. It's just so… ARGH!_

_Last night, Marcy helped greatly in aiding me to… relieve stress, so to speak, but I am still pretty wound up about this. Is there even any hope left for us, if the blood samples prove our hypothesis wrong?_

_No, I should not think so negatively. I have Marcy by my side, so everything will be okay. I have to believe that._

_1 January 3031_

_Today marks the fourth year of the disease's reign, the fourth year of what people have started to call the apocalypse. I don't think humanity will be able to hold out much more, food has been running out, and we've had to send even children out to faraway towns hoping that other survivors haven't looted it yet._

_There are a bunch of stores nearby that we haven't emptied out, so we might be going there again. Even I have started joining them on their dangerous expeditions; it doesn't feel right for me to sit around safely in the base while twelve year olds risk their lives to bring me food._

_Marcy keeps saying that it's okay, that she'll steal my share personally if I feel so bad about it, because she doesn't want me risking my life out there. I told her that I feel the same way about her, I would rather have her safe and sound by my side instead of out on that battlefield, but we don't really have a choice._

_It is getting harder and harder to survive now; everyone has to pull their weight. Even the little kids, too young to be sent outside, help by doing chores around the facility. No work, no food._

_10 March 3031_

_Our last hypothesis turned out to be wrong again! I really don't know what we can do now; we have studied absolutely everything we can! Did we miss out something important, or overlook a small pattern? I highly doubt so; we've revised our work and added new research constantly over the past few years, but still nothing!_

_Science hasn't been able to help us, nor has religion; it seems almost as if our world has been forsaken by all. Once in a while, we forge out into that unforgiving terrain filled with a strong desire to survive, though we all know that it cannot last. The light is bleeding from my eyes; I can't find the silver lining anymore._

_We're going to die soon; nothing is going to change that. This disease is going to be the end of humanity, yet we are too stubborn to accept defeat and die. We keep sending people out there, where the Contaminated roam, desperate to continue living in this hopeless world._

_Marcy just left today on a mission, one without me. I tried to tag along but it's too dangerous, they're going beyond the city in a van, and that is bound to attract the Contaminated's attention. They've only allowed the more experienced fighters out on this hunt, and Marcy's the youngest of them all at barely sixteen._

_I'm scared; I really don't want to lose my Marcy. There are so many dangers out there; every day we share could be our last…_

_I don't ever want us to end, Marcy. I love you so much. However, if someday, I ever die before you do, I want you to be strong and move on. I know it's hard, the world out there isn't a bright place, but I want you to do it, for me. Know that I will never want you to be miserable, so please don't keep showing me a sad face if I die._

_Also, we promised that we'd change the world, remember? So try your best to keep it even if I'm gone. And of course, I'll try my best to do the same should you leave first, however unattractive the idea sounds right now._

_I love you, Marcy, always._

Tears dripped down the raven haired girl's face as she read the final entry in the diary repeatedly, recalling the events that had led to Bonnibel's demise. That mission didn't go very well; they got cornered by a huge horde of Contaminated and were running out of ammunition, so they radioed the base for help. A rescue team was sent, and wild horses couldn't drag Bonnie away from it.

Half the group didn't come back from that mission and Bonnie was one of them. Her diary had been left there, how on earth did it get back? Did it cling to the fur of the Contaminated that killed her, and drop off when they made the journey here? Or was it a sign from Bonnie, a kick up her girlfriend's ass, a strong message to _stop wallowing in your misery, Marcy, it hurts me to see that_?

Closing the book, Marceline leans back against the bed and closes her eyes, silent tears flooding down her cheeks. Fondly, she remembered the time they had spent together, the silly pranks they had pulled, the arguments they had because of how _different_ they were, the knowledge that no matter what they did, the other would love them anyway…

They hadn't been a perfect couple, but they did what they could. They had their quirks, Marceline was a surprisingly insecure person with a pretty bad sense of self-worth despite her really childish exterior, and Bonnibel sometimes could be as dense as lead, rather uptight and a little too judgmental. However, they had made it work, work _well_, and every night when they curled up in each other's arms, the harshness of the world outside could briefly be forgotten.

Gone… Bonnie was gone. That still hit hard, one and a half years down the road, and Marceline was sure the pain would never go away. However, she had received and understood her girlfriend's message; the time for moping was over.

She would live on, dare to feel emotion again, and plunge into the black sea of despair and uncertainty that awaited her, for Bonnie's sake.

"Wait for me, princess," she mumbled, the ridiculously pink book clutched to her chest, "I'll see you again, but not so soon."

Just before she dropped off to sleep, Marceline swore she heard Bonnibel respond.

"_I'll wait for you forever, Marcy."_

**A/N: I don't think this suits the song 100% but meh, that's what I got out of it. The last date of the diary entry, 10 March, I got from Marcy's age. 10/03, 1003 years. A cookie for anyone who noticed this before I pointed it out.**

**Don't expect all my updates to be this quick, though, my muse is just on a roll lately. Anyway, please leave a review~**

**Haruka**


	3. Just Be Friends

**A/N: Hello~ This story is going to be a little angstier (still not a word, I know) than the previous one, but hey, that's my playlist for ya. The songs are mostly angry, angsty, sarcastic, bitter, lonely or a random combination of the above.**

**I'm wondering if AT is a quiet fandom, or if my work just isn't good enough to get reviews…**

**P.S If you guys feel this song is too pop-y for a breakup song, look for the Punk Ballad or Piano Version of this song.**

_**Song Title: Just Be Friends  
>Artist: Megurine Luka<br>Original Language: Japanese**_

_**Adventure Time Universe**_

Lingering nervously outside the Princess' room, the banana guard wondered briefly if the message was truly important enough to risk knocking on her door for, and quickly decided that it was not. Right now, his Princess would not enjoy being disturbed, of that he was certain; the message's importance did not matter. It was not like the entire Candy Kingdom was at stake, anyway.

The raised voices from within could be heard down the entire corridor, but it was not out of the ordinary. For the last few months, every single time the Vampire Queen showed up, a shouting contest would undoubtedly ensue. It didn't matter if Marceline arrived with the intention to apologize; it always ended the same way, with the two of them trying their hardest to hurt each other.

"Look, Marcy, I don't have time for these childish –"

"My _feelings_ aren't childish, Bonnie!"

"_Feelings_ aren't going to help me run the Candy Kingdom, or keep any of my people safe!" She sounded frustrated, annoyed and exhausted; she had been working nights trying to complete her latest experiment-cum-invention. Her fuse was as short as it could get, and it was burning down _fast_.

"Dammit! What's wrong with a day off? We haven't spent proper time with each other for ages!"

"I can't afford it! Marceline, I'm in charge now, things won't ever be the same anymore! I can't just run around doing whatever the hell I like the way you do! Why can't you understand that?"

"_I need you,_ Bonnie, why can't you understand _that_?!" the Vampire Queen's voice had broken, something it had never done before. She was many things, snarky, cold, rude, lazy, but _weak_ had never been one of them.

"Marcy… I'm sorry, but responsib-"

Marceline interrupted, "Responsibility demands sacrifice, blah blah blah. You've said that a thousand times, Princess. You're… you're not sorry."

"What?!"

"You're not! If you were, you'd actually do something about it, not just sit there repeating the same words like a goddamn robot!"

"Well, yeah, maybe I'm not sorry!"

The servants in the hallway stiffened – their Princess had never openly said such things before, she had always tried to keep the Vampire Queen around. Was she really going to let her go…?

"B-Bonnie…?" Marceline sounded almost _afraid_, two firsts in a day. She hated it, hated the way the Princess got under her skin and made her feel hollow, the way she _needed_ Bonnibel to look at her, to notice her, to talk to her, to like her…

The Princess took a deep breath, the eavesdropping servants unknowingly mimicking her, "I'm... I'm breaking up with you, Marceline. We can… we can be friends, but… this isn't… it isn't working."

For that moment, the Kingdom seemed to hold its breath, the silence so profound that they could hear the Ice King tossing and turning in his bed. And then it broke, along with the Vampire Queen, her voice hoarse and weak and wounded as she spat out, "Fine. It's… it's not like I needed you anyway."

With that, she was gone, before the Princess could even start to feel regret. Gone, like smoke in the wind, never to return.

Bonnibel could not stop the tears from overflowing, the gravity of the situation settling in her stomach like a rock that kept pulling downward, her knees collapsing under the weight. Honestly, she didn't want to do it, she loved Marceline, she still did, but it wasn't fair for her to continue dragging things along. It wasn't helping her, and it sure as hell wasn't helping Marceline.

The sound of glass smashing worried the servants, and Peppermint Butler, the bravest of them all, decided to risk the Princess' wrath by entering the room, more concerned for her safety than his own. After all, he had been on the receiving end of the Princess' rage on several occasions.

"Princess…?" the room was dark, a single light shining on the pink form huddled on the floor, blood dripping from her pale pink fingers. The sight of the pinkish-red liquid sent the little Candy man into a panic, "Princess, you're hurt! Did that uncivilized demon spawn do this to you?"

Bonnibel did not seem to have heard or noticed him, her blank eyes fixed on the broken glass before her. Broken, like the bond she had with Marceline, like Marceline's heart, like her own…

So many things were broken that day.

Wrapped up in her thoughts, she did not notice her butler respectfully leave, eyes still on the broken glass. For some strange reason, Bonnibel reached out to gather the fragments of the beaker, further cutting her fingers, marveling at how apt a metaphor it was for her relationship with Marceline.

It had started out swimmingly, they hit it off pretty well despite being almost opposites, and they just hung out doing kid things. Marceline was cool, cute, but cool; she was strong, not afraid of anything, teasing yet sensitive, tough yet sentimental. She was bittersweet, a chaotic mass of good and evil; she was irresistible.

Their eventual relationship seemed pretty much inevitable; they were joined at the hip, spending almost every single day together. Even the most mundane things were fun when done with Marceline, and Bonnibel never wanted to leave her side. The bonds that connected them grew with every passing moment, sinking deeper and deeper into their hearts.

However, when she had to step up to the throne that had always bore her name, everything began to fall apart. Swamped with work, the Princess could not find much time for her lover, and those rare moments soon faded away altogether as her workload grew, and science opened its welcoming arms.

The past few months had been agonizing for them both, Bonnibel knew it. An incessant downpour had started in her heart, blurring her vision, chilling her down to her bones, making her feel heavier and heavier as they struggled along with their strained, dying relationship.

It was three weeks ago that the Princess thought of ending it, for her sake as well as Marceline's. Their relationship wasn't doing them any good, they were only hurting each other, and though it was painful to cut their fading bonds away for good, she knew it was the best solution.

Over and over again, she postponed it, pushed it aside, desperately seeking another way to not have to do this, to selfishly keep Marceline by her side even though it was only cutting them even deeper. Their crumbling bonds were festering, corrupting their wounded hearts, and Bonnibel was forced to recognize that there was _no other way._

Holding on to the broken glass with trembling fingers, Bonnibel threw her head back and screamed, her hoarse voice resonating pointlessly through the castle. She knew that it would hurt, she had steeled herself for the pain, but it still crippled her, piercing through every bit of her, leaving her stunned and dazed and hollow. She wanted to take back her words, to turn back time, to bring Marceline back, but there was no point.

Their relationship was like the broken beaker blurring in and out of her vision, it could not be repaired, and if they tried, it would only cut into them with its slick, sharp edges. Their time had ended, their goodbyes had been said. All they could do now was to try piece themselves back together and walk forward, without ever turning back.

Marceline deserved better, she deserved someone that could pay attention to her, who would love her as much as she loved them, who would put in the effort to maintain their relationship, who would take time aside to cuddle with her or to pull a stupid prank on the uptight Lemongrabs… everything that Bonnibel wasn't anymore. If she couldn't give Marceline that, then she shouldn't selfishly cling on to her and hinder her from finding someone who could.

That was what loving Marceline really meant, letting her go if it meant that she could find happiness elsewhere. It would hurt at first, they would probably not be able to do anything productive for a while, but with time, everything would be as okay as it could possibly be again. Marceline would return to terrorizing people by night the way she used to, and Bonnibel would return to her royal duties. And maybe someday, the two of them could hang out again, this time as friends.

_Friends_. It wasn't a bad word, in fact, it was pretty positive; it implied that you had someone who would laugh with you, someone you could spend time with, so why did it feel like such a terrible word now?

_Friends. _Maybe because it was a huge step down from _girlfriend_ and _lover_, maybe because it meant that things hadn't worked out and now they had wounds to lick, trying to cling on to the next best thing. Maybe that was why…

She wailed again, her voice reaching deep into the hearts of her people, but never even brushing the pointed ears of the person who needed to hear it. Fisting the shards of glass in her palm, Bonnibel savored the pinpricks of pain that jolted through her hazy brain, reminding her that _you are alive_ and _this is real._

Real, real, real… she couldn't quite wrap her head around that. Her world felt like it was made of gossamer, ready to fall apart at any moment, ready to reveal itself as nothing but an illusion, a bad dream, a witch's cruel spell, anything _but_ real. Saying that it hurt was a huge understatement – the pain consumed every inch of her foggy mind, culminating in her chest where she was burning from the inside out, a strange numbness taking away most of the feeling in her limbs.

Yet another scream tore its way from her throat, echoing pointlessly, the banana guard outside now even more reluctant to deliver his message. How could he interrupt his Princess while she was grieving, while she was hurting so badly, so obviously? The message was of a trivial matter, no lives were at stake, so it would be fine for him to hold his tongue. However… when would it be okay for him to deliver it? When would his beloved monarch be capable of assuming her royal duties once more?

Judging by the sound of her heartbroken wails, it seemed that he would have to hold the message for many days to come.

Pushing the glass further into her bloody palm, Princess Bubblegum lay alone, stranded, on a desolate island of irrationality, unable to find her way out. Over her cold body, the waves crashed, gray and heavy, the salt stinging the wound in her chest from which blood still flowed. She wanted to get up, to push aside those cloudy emotions and embrace the definite – science and reality – but she could not.

Responsibility demanded sacrifice, but did it forbid her from mourning that sacrifice?

Deep inside, Bonnibel knew that, if she had the chance to turn back the clock and do that day over, she would still have broken up with Marceline. Though it hurt, though she felt regret, it was for the best. Logically, reasonably, she had done it right, and no matter how emotional she felt right then, Bonnibel would still stick to the facts. The most painful solution had proved the best; she would not let her pining, wailing, bleeding heart say otherwise.

_**[Elsewhere]**_

Marceline had no idea where she was going, only that she needed to get away, as far as she could, from the Candy Kingdom and their pretty pink monarch. The scenery flowing beneath her did not register even once with the heartbroken vampire, who was so out of it that she only realized morning had arrived when the sun's rays burned at her skin, causing her to fall out of the sky with a hiss.

Taking shelter in a deep cavern, the Vampire Queen slumped in a shaded corner, tears rolling down her cool cheeks. She should have seen it coming, the strain between them had been growing and growing, the bonds between them shattering into pieces that were falling into the dark abyss of life, but Marceline had kept hoping that her Bonnie would come back to her. Soon, when she grew used to the hectic life of royalty, when her Kingdom settled down, things would go back to normal, she kept telling herself, even though that dream was dissolving more and more each day.

Experiments, duties and rituals swallowed Bonnibel, consuming every inch of her being, taking up every moment of her time, until even her girlfriend had to be left behind. When Bonnibel couldn't even spare her a _smile_, Marceline decided that enough was enough. That was when the fights began.

And that was where she knew everything would go downhill. Nothing good would come out of a couple constantly screaming at each other, failing to understand the other's feelings and to reach some sort of compromise; ultimately, everything was going to end badly, a few hundred years of life experience told her that easily enough.

Still, she had tried her best to ignore that nagging feeling, that negative voice, believing that their relationship would be okay again. It was a stupid thing to think, but being alone for a long time did that to people, made them desperate to hold on to whoever they had. And Bonnibel was the only one she had left, Simon had disappeared completely into the crown, he wasn't the same man anymore. If she didn't have Princess Bubblegum, she had _no one at all._

A cold breeze entered the cave, bringing with it a multitude of pale pink petals – cherry blossoms. They brushed by the vampire's wet cheeks before, weighed down by her tears, tumbling to her feet, going mostly unnoticed.

A number of those faded petals landed in the palm of Marceline's hand, the soft tickle alerting her to their presence. Studying those pretty little fragments, she realized that they were a good metaphor for the relationship she and Bonnibel had just ended; it was beautiful while it lasted, but it was dead and no amount of wishing could restore life to it. Those petals were mere shadows of their former glory; there was no way they could ever bloom again.

Continuing that relationship hadn't been doing either of them any good, and Marceline knew that; even though she wished it hadn't happened, she would rather be hurt than have Bonnibel live with a guilty conscience, constantly being wounded by her inability to understand the vampire's feelings. Their arguments had only weighed heavily on them both, making it impossible for either to go about their daily rituals. Her Bonnie had tried, she could tell, but she didn't try hard enough, she couldn't. Her responsibilities were too heavy to allow her much breathing room to placate a bristly young vampire.

They could be _friends_, Bonnibel had said, _friends_. To Marceline, that word didn't mean very much, she never had any friends. Hambo didn't really count, he was a teddy bear, while Simon was a father, and Bonnibel had always been a lover.

_Had_.

The change in tense killed her; she didn't want to think about it.

First, she had lost Simon, and now, Bonnibel was no longer hers. What was she going to lose next, Hambo? Would someone steal that tattered old teddy bear from her, just to make sure she had nothing left?

Her head was hazy, it felt like she had just woken from a really bad nightmare and was trying to assess how much of it was real and how much of it wasn't. Wordlessly, she fisted the petals in her palm, crumpling them; it didn't matter what she did to them, they were already dead. Dead, dead, dead…

Before she knew it, she was wailing, a hoarse, broken sound tearing itself from her throat and echoing forlornly off the cave walls. The petals quivered, as if afraid, as the Vampire Queen's body morphed into a large demon's, tears streaming from its glowing eyes as it went on a wild, blind rampage, gouging out sections of the wall.

Was she angry? If she was, who was she angry at? Bonnie? Herself? The world? Marceline had no idea. All she knew was that she needed to hit something, to break it, to shatter it, to reduce it to the same state Bonnibel had left her in. She felt weak, pathetic, contempt for her current state buzzed through her demon blood, resulting in a singular desire to destroy.

If she could die, the vampire knew she would in a heartbeat. The pain that ravaged at her insides was of an intensity she had never experienced before, nor would she ever want to experience again. It was crippling and burning and numbing and freezing all at the same time, stemming from her heart and brain and arms and stomach – it seemed to come from everywhere. Marceline never knew pain could be like that, so acute but without a physical source, tingling all over her body, making her writhe in blind agony.

Again and again, she struck out at the cave wall, a demonic scream tearing free from her throat, echoing, echoing, echoing… She wondered if Bonnibel could hear it, back in the Candy Kingdom, if she too was hurting from the decision she had made. It's over, over, over… the word bounced hollowly inside Marceline's head, losing all meaning.

Smashing her fists into the stone one last time, Marceline transformed back into her normal form, her knees buckling beneath her and her forehead knocking against what remained of the wall, her arms limp at her sides. Throwing her head back, she let out a heartbreaking wail, her fists clenching as her body began to heave violently with her sobs, uselessly pounding against the stone with her weak, human hands. Even as blood began to drip from the cuts and tears her knuckles had sustained, Marceline didn't stop, she _couldn't_.

Falling in love with Princess Bubblegum had been one of the wildest rides of her life, a rollercoaster of ups and downs that had finally crashed, after a long and laborious climb, into the cold ground. Lying dazed in the wreckage, alive but not grateful for it, Marceline slowly had to wrap her head around the fact that now, she was _completely alone_.

Once again, her world had been wrecked, reduced to rubble and dust, but this time, she didn't have anyone by her side. There was no Simon to guide her, to protect her, to make her smile and entertain her even when things went wrong. And there definitely was no Bonnie to laugh with her, to pull stupid pranks with her, to comfort her and oblige her. This time, she was all by herself, no help in sight, an invisible wound in her chest dripping blood she didn't need.

She had to pull herself together, find the snarky, rude, independent badass that she was before and head back out to terrorize the living world. She had to pretend Bonnibel hadn't just leeched the color out of her world faster than she could drain an apple, that her heart hadn't just been cruelly butchered, diced and flattened with a steamroller, that she was still strong.

Her heart whined, crumpled, there was no energy in her body left to stand, let alone float. Pathetically, it continued to sob, that unspecific agony bleeding out from it, setting her entire chest on fire. Her lungs burned, blackened, even though she had no need for air, and she longed to cut them out of her body. She was dead, well, _un_dead, but still, her body was not supposed to hurt the way it did. Her heart had long stilled, her veins filled only with sluggish demon blood, so why did it hurt so badly? How could a dead organ cause her so much grief?

Her heart didn't seem to care that it was supposed to be dead, pulses of pain gripping the vampire's slim body. Giving in to its cries, Marceline decided that, for now, in private, she would allow herself a little weakness.

Maybe someday, they could meet again, just as… _friends_.

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading to the end! Please leave a review!  
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**Haruka**


	4. Sweet Arms of A Tune

**A/N: I have taken the liberty to alter Missy Higgins' lyrics slightly (just changing genders) so that it suits this story a bit more. It might be kinda confusing since now it is two different "she"s and "her"s, but I hope you can get it.**

**Haruka**

_**Song Title: Sweet Arms of a Tune  
>Artist: Missy Higgins<br>Original Language: English**_

_**Alternate Universe – New York City**_

Unlike the other clubs she had been to, this one was much tamer, the music less sensual, and there were no seizure-inducing pulsing lights in sight. Most of the patrons were like her, drinking alone, most probably drowning their sorrows in barrels of the liver-destroying amber liquid.

Downing the rest of the beer in one gulp, Bonnibel slumped against the table, wondering for the millionth time what she was doing back in New York. Life in London was working out great for her; she had never felt happier, so why did she crawl back to the city of her birth, the city that she had run away from?

One word.

One _name_.

_Marceline._

She sighed deeply, raising a hand to alert the bartender of her desire. Moments later, another mug was placed before her, and she silently nursed it as she thought. She had fled New York to escape the shadows of the past that chained her, and sadly, those shadows had included Marceline. Back then, while her pain was raw and her life bleak, she could not separate the girl she cared about from the filth of her present, and chose to leave her behind.

She. _Left._ Marceline.

That was why she returned, briefly pushing aside her award-winning, prodigious scientist life to dig around in New York's nightlife. She wanted to find Marceline and talk to her, to either gain closure or take a step with her into the future, whatever the raven haired girl would give her. However, they had not bothered keeping in touch, and Bonnibel had no idea where her old friend was. She could be in South Africa performing for lions for all she knew.

Half-hearted applause pulled the pink haired girl from her thoughts, and she turned to see the band on the tiny stage beginning to pack up. Uninterested, she returned her sapphire gaze to her mug, and then to the four empty ones beside it. This was the fifth night she had been spending in random clubs and bars, searching for her friend, even though she had no idea if Marceline was still doing that odd job of singing in random eating establishments. Hopefully, she still was, because Bonnibel was not looking forward to returning to London empty-handed. She didn't know if she could live that way.

The music started up again, some gentle applause mingling with the starting chords; she assumed a new performer had taken the stage and did not bother looking. The music was far too gentle, peaceful, soothing, for Marceline, the Marceline she remembered was a rough soul who loved rock music, emo music, stuff that sounded sadder, angrier…

"_She told her when she played, wings sprouted from her shoulder blades  
>And every bone inside her seemed to change<br>So on her fingers moved, over notes she hoped would soothe  
>Her jagged soul caressing every groove."<em>

That voice… it had to be… but it couldn't be… Bonnibel turned her head so quickly she almost twisted her neck, eyes widening in disbelief as she spotted the dark haired performer.

Marceline.

"_Oh and how she longed to say  
>That she'd missed her troubled ways<br>Oh and if she could, she'd do it all again_

_Cause sometimes every word has been used  
>And there's nothing left to do<br>But hold the one you can't have in the sweet arms of a tune."_

As the lyrics flowed over her, Bonnibel quietly remembered the day they had parted, the warm colors of the bar giving way to the faded white of Marceline's bedroom, one year ago. Said dark haired girl was leaning against the bed, bass in hand, wordlessly strumming a peaceful melody with her eyes closed, as if she did not know where to look if she had kept them open.

Bonnibel, too, could sense the tension between them, could sense that they were both unsure where they stood, but the music was slowly melting her troubles away. The melody seemed to stroke her wounded soul, soothing the agitation and confusion and pain she was feeling, like the gentle touch of an angel. The frenzied panic she had been experiencing drained out of her body, a warm, cozy calm wrapping around her.

She could see it happening as the music drew on, the transformation in her prickly bedmate, the way her bones seemed to lighten and wings seemed to unfurl from thin air, snow white against the raven black of her hair. She could see the burdens on the girl's shoulders lighten, even if only for a moment, and the darkness within her lift, transform, radiating outward as a soothing light.

"Whenever you play, Marcy, you turn into angel," she had said, softly, hesitantly, as if afraid of breaking some sort of spell. The atmosphere between them was confusing, fragile, ready to collapse at any moment, and she was afraid to push it. A note of reverence entered her voice as she added, "You're practically _glowing_."

Marceline hadn't said a word, she simply smiled as she continued to play, the twist of her lips stuck halfway between wistfulness and bitterness, as if her heart itself was conflicted beyond understanding. She had held something back, Bonnibel was absolutely sure of it, but she had been too exhausted to try find out. Maybe she should have…

Were the words Marceline longed to say… the words expressed in this song? Had she wanted to beg her to stay, to tell her _Bonnie you mean more to me than you think, so please don't go_?

Frozen in shock, Bonnibel wondered if she could still have abandoned everything the way she did if Marceline had said those words to her that night. The answer came instantaneously, without a doubt: _no_. If she had known how much Marceline cared, there was no way in hell she could have left her.

And where would that have led her? A dead-end life doing things she hated in a city that choked her more and more with each passing moment. Marceline had did good to let her go and keep her peace, she had chosen to be as unselfish as she could possibly be just to let Bonnibel find her happiness.

"_A year ago today, New York City seemed to fall away  
>To leave only the bed in which they laid<br>But an island is just there  
>Oh and when the world came flooding back<br>Oh the pillars underneath them began to crack."_

A year ago today… Bonnibel glanced down at her phone, her eyes widening when she realized Marceline was right. It was exactly this day that she had gone to the raven haired girl's apartment, on the verge of tears, to tell her of her plans to leave New York behind forever.

Marceline had been supportive, though a bit quieter than usual, encouraging her to do as she pleased, even if it meant abandoning everything and every_one_ she knew in New York City.

"Do what you feel is necessary," she had said, "As long as your decisions help you to live, I'm all for them."

To be honest, Bonnibel knew that there was not very much in the city for her to throw away, just shadows of an oppressive life that pressed against her throat, making it hard for her to breathe. Parents who planned her every step, judgmental "friends" who understood little about her, and the sexual relationship with a beautiful girl made necessary by her pain. If that was what she had to abandon to live, she was quite sure she could do it.

Still, it didn't stop her from feeling panicky, not that anyone could blame her. London was a whole new country, a different area of the world, and she would no longer have her parents' support if she ran away. Bonnibel was going to be out in the cold, harsh world earlier than most, all by herself in a foreign place.

Understanding what her Bonnie had come for, Marceline obliged, easily pinning the shivering, sniffling girl to the bed, her favorite distraction. Before long, they were enveloped in a peaceful little bubble, away from the real world, shielded from its harshness. There, they could tumble freely in the sheets, blissfully unaware of the consequences the rising sun would bring, briefly comforted by the warm intimacy.

For those precious moments, they chucked away their outer shells, leaving with them their obligations, their pains, their fears, their insecurities… Under the merciless onslaught of Marceline's talented fingers and long tongue, Bonnibel was nothing but a molten core of intense desire, moaning and bucking and whimpering.

But as all bubbles had to, it popped, exposing them to the harshness of reality, and Bonnibel made a decision she was still unsure if she regretted. She kissed Marceline goodbye in the morning, headed right home and booked herself the earliest possible flight to London. She had already contacted everyone necessary, she only needed to confirm it with them, and Marceline's warmth had given her the strength to do it.

To walk away from everything she ever knew.

That day, her world had been rocked beyond comprehension; she was a weird pink haired teenager mostly alone in a brand new country. She was afraid, confused, a little lonely, but determined to make something out of herself, to do something that she wanted to do. She had not thought about how Marceline's world had been changed, how Marceline had been hurt, or how her life might have collapsed, she had been too wrapped up in herself.

"_Now she's sitting on her floor  
>She's playing all the minor chords<br>Wishing so damn hard she'd kiss her like before._

_But sometimes every word has been used  
>And there's nothing left to do<br>But hold the one you can't have in the sweet arms of a tune  
>Yeah hold the one you can't love in the sweet arms of a tune."<em>

**Love.** The word made Bonnibel tense up even further, her heart fluttering in her chest. Did Marceline love her, had she always loved her? If she had… the pain she must have endured during the last year would have been excruciating, having encouraged the girl with her heart to run away, to not bother ever looking back…

That awkward night of soothing melodies, of closed eyes and averted gazes, of words unsaid, seems to haunt Marceline a lot more than Bonnibel had thought it would. She had wanted to be kissed, she had wanted to be touched, she had wanted everything to go back to normal, but she sucked it up and did what was good for Bonnibel instead, even if it meant hurting herself.

The raven haired musician pinned her sorrowful crimson gaze on the neck of her old bass, as if avoiding eye contact could hide the fact that she was on the verge of tears. The bar was respectfully silent; all eyes pinned on Marceline, but she felt as if she was the only person in the room, telling her story to four unfeeling walls.

Closing her eyes, she delivered the last lines of the song in a slightly strained voice, barely able to keep the tears out of it.

"_Cause sometimes every inch of you is bruised  
>And there's nothing left to prove<br>So just hold the one you can't love in the sweet arms of a tune.  
>Yeah hold the one you can't love in the sweet arms of a tune."<em>

All the doubts and fears within Bonnibel melted away as the song drew to a close, her heartbeat accelerating in her chest as she rose, abandoning the remains of her mug, walking as calmly as she could towards the stage. She had found the girl she was looking for, and had just heard the answer she was longing to hear. There was no fear left, just determination to do things right.

Marceline's eyes widened when she spotted that familiar head of pink approaching her, entire body tensing up like an animal preparing itself for inevitable abuse. The silence dragged on, so profound one could hear a pin drop across the street, as Bonnibel wordlessly wrapped her arms around her old friend.

"B-Bonnie…?" the disbelief and wonder and pain in her tone hit Bonnibel hard, telling her exactly how much she had wounded Marceline by walking away that day, by refusing to keep any contacts in America, let alone New York City.

"In the flesh," she whispered, running gentle fingers through raven locks as Marceline's shoulders began to tremble, barely audible sobs escaping from between clenched teeth. "I'm so sorry, Marcy…"

**A/N: I'm sorry I took so long to do anything; my productivity hasn't been very good lately. Sorry about the lower quality of this piece, I just feel like I have to get something up for you guys.**

**Haruka**


	5. Tsumi to Batsu

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, life has been quite a b*tch lately and my mood swings are going from bad to worse.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, though it's short, and please leave a review behind!**

**Haruka**

_**Song Title: Tsumi to Batsu (Sin and Punishment)  
>Artist: Hatsune Miku<br>Original Language: Japanese**_

_**Adventure Time universe**_

Marceline did not exactly like the bitter vampire trope, but she was coming to understand why it was so difficult to keep away from. After spending hundreds of years (one thousand and three, to be exact) with all that she cared about stolen from her, all whom she loved eventually leaving her, all she held dear crumbling to pieces around her, it was no wonder that her heart could only find bitterness. And anger, pain, irrational hatred…

That was what life as a vampire truly was, nothing but endless days of eternal agony twisting in a dead, hollow chest.

What a cliché she was.

Well, bitter vampire was better than sparkly twerp who must've made off with Chinese opera makeup and fallen into a vat of glitter...

Floating alone in the night sky, Marceline silently thought of everything she had lost, of everything that had slipped between her fingers despite her desperate attempts to hold on to them. Simon was the first to go, that had been inevitable, and the guilt of it still weighed heavily on the vampire Queen's mind. If only she had been stronger, if only she knew how to use her demon powers back then, Simon would not have had to rely on the crown to protect them, protect _her_.

And then Hambo, one of her most prized earthly possessions, gone because of her bad decision, because of her hidden insecurities. Sold to a witch by the bastard she was stupid enough to date, to let into her house and her heart.

Then Bonnie left too.

The ache in her chest had not lessened, even though it had been decades, maybe even centuries, since that day. Bonnie had left her for her kingdom, for rules and propriety and obligation, as if those stupid candy people mattered. They would probably elect a new ruler if she left, and even if they crashed and burned, what was so bad about that? The world had already died once, its people purged, why not again? Why did the short, timed lives of mortals matter?

Curse Bonnie's warm, caring heart, curse the obligation that weighed her, weighs her still, like an undersea anchor, entangled in the weeds, unmoving, unrelenting, unforgiving…

Gentle fingers strummed over her bass guitar, picking out a steady rhythm as her thoughts swirled chaotically in her head; music was the way she ordered them, shuffled them about until she could comprehend them. Music was her release; it was what gave her the ability to carry on living.

"_Moshi mo kimi ni mimi ga attara  
>kono uta wo kikasete agerareru no ni<br>Moshi mo kimi ni kokoro ga attara  
>kono suki de tsutsunde agerareru no ni<em>"

Bitter, just as she thought it would be. Longing, sorrowful, but primarily bitter, the darkness swirling within her was escaping through the cracks. Who was it for, she found herself wondering, whose ears did this song long to travel to, whose heart did this song wish to surround?

"_Nee, kirai ni naru nara boku wo koroshite  
>Kimi ni aisarenai boku nanka iranai<br>Doko ni mo inai inai inai  
>Bah<em>"

_Hey, if you're going to hate me, kill me instead  
>There's no need for me to live if you don't love me<br>Not anywhere at all, at all, at all  
>Bah.<em>

It got worse, angrier, and she knew immediately who these feelings were intended for. For Bonnie, her Bonnie, that goddamn sticky-sweet Princess who was her drug, her weakness, her undoing. The years without her Bonnie by her side were among the hardest of her life, empty, cold; her heart died bit by bit within her, until she no longer cared about most things.

Life was one of them, regardless if it was her own or someone else's.

The last argument they had rolled in her head, Bonnie's anger, her sharp words and equally sharp eyes piercing into Marceline's undead soul again and again. The _hatred_ in her gaze was unmistakable, it was as if all those years they had together had rotted away, and all Marceline was to her from then on was a _nuisance_. A distraction, a… a _problem_.

It hurt; it hurt so badly… The waves of pain consumed the vampire with the ferocity of a million suns, burning into her skin, her flesh, her bones, her very being. She loathed it with a passion, the agony that only Bonnibel Bubblegum could cause her, oh how she wished she no longer cared about her…

Why did she matter so damn much anyway? Bonnie didn't care about her, why should she bother in return?

"_Nee, kirai ni naru kara boku wo aishite  
>Kimi ni aisaretai boku wa inai kara<br>Doko ni mo inai yo  
>Nee, itai yo<em>"

_Hey, because you loved me you hate me  
>The me that wanted your love is no longer here<br>Not anywhere at all  
>Hey, it hurts.<em>

Marceline was disgusted to find tears in her eyes as she sang, her pain and pride warring within her for dominance. She wished that it was true, that the Marcy whom Bonnie had loved, who had wanted Bonnie's love, was no longer around, was dead and buried deep within the vampire's aged, embittered soul, but it was not. Sweet, playful, teasing Marcy who would do anything for Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum still existed, still wept a great deal every day, still found herself lingering at Bonnie's window past midnight wishing she could slip inside the way she did before…

But she was not welcome, and she was not foolish enough to think otherwise.

In the darkness below, the vampire's eyes made out the familiar shape of her old treehouse, now inhabited by a foolish human boy and his talking dog cum brother. The sight of it brought anger, sudden and vicious, into her chest, and she was swept with the longing to bear down on them both, drain the lifeblood from their bodies and throw their corpses in a pit.

Finn, the boy, had grown close to her Bonnie, and she knew he had a thing for her. He was way too young for her, but that didn't stop him from trying, didn't stop him from putting a smile on Bonnie's face the way Marceline hadn't been able to for a long, long time.

It infuriated her.

Why did Bonnie open up to let that idiotic boy in, why did she spare him moments when she refused to do the same for Marceline? Did all the years of friendship and… and _love_ they had shared mean absolutely nothing to her?

Had it all been a mistake?

Did Bonnie want to erase it completely, her "shameful tryst" with the vampire Queen, heiress of the Nightosphere? Was Marceline but a black mark on her perfect record that she had to conceal, to wash away, to _delete_?

The anger grew, expanded, taking flight deep within her chest and battering its way out of her throat, spitting out harsh words she might regret if only there were someone to hear them, to understand them.

"_Kimi no mimi nante iranai  
>Kimi no kokoro datte iranai<br>Kimi ga souyatte kurushinderu kao ga miretara ii yo_"

_Your ears are unnecessary  
>Your heart is unnecessary<br>Getting to see your pained face is good enough for me_.

All the hurt, the jealousy, the insurmountable fury and unforgiving guilt Bonnie had made Marceline feel, she would find some way to return it. Find a way to make her suffer, to ruin everything the candy monarch ever loved so she too could experience the crushing agony of a vampire.

Marceline's fingers stilled, dark eyes scanning the endless horizon, a low chuckle rumbling from her throat. It grew, tearing out of her chest as a bitter, crazed laughter, her fangs singing for blood. Real blood, not the red she had been drinking to minimize the deaths she was responsible for.

Looking down at the world, sleeping so peacefully, blissfully, making the most of numbered days, galled her to the core. Whenever she saw someone wounded, hurt and lonely being picked up by friends who would talk through the night to stop them from suicide, who would spend as much time as they wanted with them until they felt okay again, the bitter jealousy that welled within her was venomous enough to kill.

She was immortal, she was powerful, a vampire Queen on a throne of darkness, heiress to a land of suffering, and she had _nothing_.

She had less than a peasant made out of sugar, or a goblin running around in tattered underpants. Less than a dumb creature made out of snow, less than a foolish penguin trailing behind the man who used to be a father to her.

And it looked like she had more.

The vampire Queen laughed again, marveling at the utter nothingness that surrounded her. Everything that she had gathered over the years was gone, all but the clothes on her back and the red axe-bass in her hands. Her title truly came with no throne, all it did was strike fear, and the Nightosphere was not a place she wanted to rule.

There she was, a Queen with no kingdom, a daughter with no father, a girl with no friends, a vampire with no coven, a demon with no cabal, a living being without a heart. Could the world blame her for her bitterness?

**A/N: I apologize for it being so short, but this is all I could come up with. Bitterness is not a good emotion to write with, you end up sounding jealous and angry and stupid and you know it, but you just can't stop feeling that way.**

**Please leave a review!**

**Haruka**


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